“The city stands as well as it does,” Bashere said, “because of you. I’m not angry, man. I’m saddened, but not angry. And I’ll take your word on Yoeli. To be frank, I’ve never liked Torkumen. For now, I’ve left him in the room where we found him—still alive, thankfully—though I’ll hear thunder from the Queen for what’s been done to him. She’s always been fond of him. Bah! She normally has better judgment.”

Bashere nodded to the side when he spoke of Torkumen, and—with a start—Ituralde realized that he recognized this building. This was Torkumen’s home, where Yoeli had brought Ituralde on his first day in the city. It made sense to choose this building as a command post—it was close enough to the northern wall to have a good view of the outside, but far enough away from the blast to have survived, unlike the Council Hall.

Well, it would have served Torkumen right if the Trollocs had gotten him. Ituralde sat back, closing his eyes, as Bashere consulted with his officers. Bashere was capable, that much was obvious. Very quickly he’d swept the city clean; once the Trollocs had realized that there was a larger force to fight, they’d abandoned the city. Ituralde could feel pride that, in part, his tenacity was what had made them so quick to run.

Ituralde continued to listen. Most of Bashere’s troops had come into the city through gateways, after sending in one scout to find safe places to make them. Fighting in the streets wouldn’t work for him as it had Ituralde; the hit-and-hide tactic had been devoted to doing as much damage as possible before getting killed. It was a losing tactic.

The Trollocs had pulled back into the fortifications, but they wouldn’t stay there for long. As he sat with closed eyes, struggling to stay awake, Ituralde heard Bashere and his captains come to the same dire conclusion Ituralde had. Maradon was lost. The Shadowspawn would wait for night, then swarm in again.

After all this, they’d just flee? After Yoeli had died holding the city? After Rajabi had been killed by a Draghkar? After Ankaer and Rossin had fallen during the skirmishes inside the walls? After all the bloodshed, they finally saw help arrive, only to have it prove insufficient?

“Perhaps we could push them off that hilltop,” one of Bashere’s men said. “Clean out the fortifications.”

He didn’t sound very optimistic.

“Son,” Ituralde said, forcing his eyes open, “I held that hill for weeks against a superior force. Your people built it up well, and the problem with well-built fortifications is that your enemy can turn them against you. You’ll lose men attacking there. A lot of them.”

The room fell silent.

“We leave, then,” Bashere said. “Naeff, we’ll need gateways.”

“Yes, Lord Bashere.” Square-faced and lean of build, the man wore the black coat and the Dragon pin of an Asha’man.

“Malain, gather the cavalry and organize them outside; make it look as if we’re going to try an assault against their fortifications. That’ll keep them eager and waiting. We’ll evacuate the wounded, then we’ll have the cavalry charge in the other direction into—”